


All in a Day's Work

by okay_klepto



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Clemens Points, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, No Spoilers, Pining, Pining Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 16:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okay_klepto/pseuds/okay_klepto
Summary: Not a day goes by at Clemens Point where there isn't something Mrs Grimshaw wants you to do.  Usually, it's doing to laundry or helping Pearson cook that day's meal, but sometimes she wants you to do the heavy lifting.  You can manage on your down, but today, Arthur offers a helping hand out of the blue.  And here you thought he only emotions he had were annoyance and anger.  Maybe he's not so bad after all.





	All in a Day's Work

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a reader insert fic, so forgive me if it's clunky or straight bad. Also, please ignore any inconsistencies in the way Arthur talks. I was adding some more accent-y stuff in post so I may have missed a few little changes.

   The muggy air at Clemens Point made chopping vegetables for Pearson - or doing really anything - absolutely miserable.  You always felt like you needed a bath (even right after you had taken one), your clothes always felt damp, and your hair never, ever looked even half decent.

   “(Y/n)!”  You turned to see Mrs Grimshaw walking towards you, looking less than pleased, as per usual.  “Are you finished with those vegetables?”

   “Yes, I believe so, ma’am.”

   “Well, then,” she shoved three buckets to your chest, “make yourself useful and fill these up with water.  We need the wash basin filled along with the water barrel. And take a few to Kieran so he can clean off the horses.”

   You took the stack of buckets with a grumble.  “Yes, ma’am.”

   “And once you’re done with that, I’ll have washing for you.”

   You rolled your eyes as Mrs Grimshaw walked away, probably on her way to go boss the other girls around.  With buckets in hand, you trudged out of camp and to the edge of the lake nearby. You looked out over the calm water, seeing a few fishermen in small boats casting their lines out in hopes of reeling in the biggest haul.  The men at camp had gone fishing, and you really wanted to join them, but there was too much to do at camp, and Grumpy Old Grimshaw would never let the new girl out of her sight.

   You dropped two of the buckets down on the shore and stared at the water’s edge.  It wasn’t deep enough to fill up without getting dirt in the bucket too, but in order to get to the deeper water, you’d have to wade out into the lake.  No thank you. You looked down at your skirt and lifted it slightly. Damn, if your shoes got wet now, they’d never dry, not in this humidity. There had to be a better way.  You couldn’t cast them out with a fishing line, and throwing them wouldn’t work. What to do…

   Out of the corner of your eye, an old dock a little ways off caught your attention.  Perfect! You could go out farther into the water without getting wet!

   You picked up your buckets and headed down to the dock.  The men’s “borrowed” boat safely sat a few yards away. For an instant, you considered rowing out and getting the water that way, but with your luck, you’d get stuck halfway or the boat would spring a leak.

   The dock was old, not in as good of shape as you had thought.  It was slanted in the water, half of the boards were missing, and the ones that were still intact were halfway rotted.  But this was no time to be fearful. You scooped up your buckets under one arm and hoisted up the hem of your skirt with your other hand.  Slowly, you stepped onto the first creaky board, pausing to see if you would, in fact, fall straight through the board and into the water. When you seemed to remain safe and dry, you stepped to the next board, then the next, expertly balancing yourself and avoiding all the boards that looked particularly rotted.  After several minutes staggering through this splintered minefield, you reached the edge of the dock (or at least as close as you could get.) You balanced two of the buckets on a board knelt down with one bucket in hand.

    _This is going to be so easy!_  You thought as you dipped the bucket in the water.   _Nothing could go wrong!_

   “(Y/n)!  Howdy!”

   The voice from the shore scared the daylights out of you, causing you to lose your balance on your knees and your grip on the bucket.  Luckily, you caught yourself on one of the boards before you could go crashing into the lake. Unluckily, you caught yourself on probably the oldest, most-splintered board.

   “Whoa!  Are you alright?”

   You turned to look behind you, seeing Arthur making his way to where you were at the end of the dock.

   “You scared me half to death!”  you breathed at you stood up to face Arthur.

   “What are you doin’ out here anyway?”

   “Mrs Grimshaw asked me to get water, and I didn’t want to get my shoes wet, so I came out here to get into deeper water, but…”  You both looked at the bucket you had dropped bob away. “Things aren’t really working out.”

   “I’ll help ya.”  Arthur rolled up the sleeves on his black shirt (that you loved to much) and took a step towards you.  “I’ll grab that bucket, then let’s go back to shore, alright? It’s a little bit safer.”

   You nodded, watching Arthur get down on his stomach to reach for the bucket that was nearly out of his long reach.  How hadn’t you discovered cowboy outlaws before this? With their tight pants and unbuttoned shirts and scruffy beards?

   Arthur stood back up to his full height after retrieving the bucket from the water.  “Let’s head back.” He took the stack of buckets from you and held out his hand. You took it, heart skipping a beat.  You lifted up the hem of your skirt as the both of you made your way back to the shore over the old dock. Every time you stepped on a particularly rickety board, Arthur could feel you squeeze his hand to secure yourself.

   “I’ll wade out a little bit and get the water,”  Arthur asked as he wiped his brow with his neckerchief.  “You stand on the shore and I’ll hand you the full buckets.”

   “Oh no, Arthur, you don’t have to do that,” you half-heartedly argued.  “Mrs Grimshaw asked me to get the water, anyway.”

   “Oh no!  I insist!”  Arthur gave you one of those rare, heart-warming smiles.  “I’m always willin’ to help a lady in need.”

   You blushed.  “Alright…”

   Arthur began to take off his boots, setting each down in the sand.  He rolled up his pant legs, exposing pale, hairy legs. It was the first time you had seen Arthur show that piece of skin - those gnarly ankles, and that long, coarse hair covering pasty, white skin.  

   Arthur waded out into the water a few paces, just until the water was about to reach his rolled-up pants.  He readjusted his sleeves up, showing off muscular forearms.

   “Okay, hand me one of those buckets.”

   “Oh, yeah, sure.”  You quickly grabbed one of the empty buckets and leaned out to hand it to Arthur, focusing more on not getting your shoes and dress wet.  Arthur took it, quickly filling the bucket before carefully handing it back to you.

   “How many of those do you need filled?” he asked.

   “I guess all three,” you replied handing him another bucket.  “Mrs Grimshaw wants a bunch of water.”

   “Of course she does…” Arthur muttered, handing you back the next filled bucket and taking the last empty one.  “She’s fine doin’ the little things around camp, but when it comes to the hard labor, she’s nowhere around.”

   “That’s not true, Arthur,” you attempted to defend as you picked up one of the filled buckets up off the ground.  “She’s just… a little older, y’know?”

   “‘A little older’ is very generous of you,” Arthur scoffed as he emerged from the water, last filled bucket in hand.  “We’re all waitin’ for the day she finally keels over.”

   “You don’t need to be so rude, Arthur.  We all like having her around.”

   “Speak for yourself.”

   With one bucket in hand, you reach down to grab the handle of the other filled one sitting on the ground.

   “Ah!”  A pang of hot pain shot through your hand as you began to lift the bucket, causing you to drop it and have water spill at your feet.

   “Are you alright?”  Arthur set his water bucket down and rushed to you, gingerly taking the hand you were holding to your chest.  “What happened?”

   “I’m fine, it’s just…”  You opened your hand upon Arthur’s light touch, revealing a red sore on your palm, just below your fingers.  A hint of blood decorated the small wound as you flexed your hand. How hadn't you noticed that before?

   “Looks like you got a pretty nasty splinter on that dock,” Arthur said as he released your hand.  He began to work his gloves off of his hands. “Here. Take these. Once we get done with this, you go see Strauss so he can clean this up.”

   “Oh, Arthur, really, it’s fine, I’ll just-”

   Arthur placed the gloves in your non-injured hand.  “(Y/n), please, just wear ‘em. It will keep the dirt out for a little while.”

   You slipped the much-too-large gloves onto your hands.  “... Thanks.”

   “Carry one bucket in your good hand if you can.  I’ll take the other two.”

   “Are you sure?” you asked as Arthur dripped the now empty back into the lake to refill it.  “We can make a few trips or-”

   “I’ve got ‘em.”  Arthur easily lifted the two buckets of water, straightening his back and looking to you.  “Where to?”

   “Well,” you reached down and lifted your bucket, only struggling a little bit, “Mrs Grimshaw says that Keiran needs some water for the horses, and-”

   “That O’Driscoll?”  Arthur groaned. “He can get his own damn water!”

   “Oh, come on!”  You began to walk to where Keiran was tending the horses.

   “The horses can just drink straight from the lake!  They don’t need water brought to them!”

   “Well, maybe he needs to wash them or something.”

   “He can still wash them in the lake…” Arthur grumbled.  “Damn O’Driscoll’s probably ain’t feeding those horses, or he’s givin’ ‘em rotted meat - probably still feeding information to Colm.”

   “I wish you wouldn’t talk about Keiran like that,” you said quietly.  “He’s not doing anything bad and you know that.”

   Arthur said nothing in reply.  He just let out a disgruntled sigh and kept following you.  “He’s still an O’Driscoll.”

   “He’s not, Arthur.  He’s said that a million times.”

   Arthur had nothing to say.

   “Keiran!” you called as you and Arthur approach the hitching posts.

   With a start, Keiran looked in your direction, almost dropping his brush.  “Oh, h-hey (y/n), Arthur.”

   Arthur just nodded.

   “We brought over some water for the horses.  Is there somewhere you want it?”

   “Oh!  Sure! Uh… ”  Keiran frantically looked around.  “In the basin will do. The horses will like something to cool down a little bit.  Thanks!”

   Both you and Arthur emptied your buckets into the large basin Keiran directed you to.  Arthur kept his eye on Keiran the whole time. He had seen how friendly you and he had gotten, and frankly, he wasn’t too happy about that whole thing.  He had to make sure he was keeping his distance from you, and most importantly, not looking at you with any lustful motives.

   “So how have the horses been doing?” you asked Keiran as you stroked one of the horses - Taima, Charles’ horse.  She was by far the kindest of all of the horses. “You know, with the move and all.”

   “They seem to be doing fine.”  Keiran patted one of the other horses.  “The thick air can make them a little hot, that’s easy to tell, so they spend a lot of time in the shade.  The water doesn’t seem to bother them, though I worry about snakes more here.”

   “Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll keep them safe.”  You smiled at Keiran. “You’re always so good with them.”

   “Well, thanks (y/n)...”  Keiran looked down to the ground in an attempt to hide his reddening face.  “It’s nice of you to say that.”

   However, when he looked back up, he was met with Arthur’s death glare.  All color drained from Keiran’s face when Arthur pulled out his knife, pointed it at him, made a slicing motion in front of his own throat, then slid it back into its holder.

   “It everything alright, Keiran?” you asked, seeing the distress in his face.

   “Y-yes!  F-f-fine!  I r-r-really need to go- go back to the other horses!  See you!”

   Keiran darted off to the other horses at the other end of the camp.

   “What do you think is up with him?” you asked, turning towards Arthur once again.

   “I don’t know.”  Arthur put a hand on the small of your back to lead you away.  “I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s get back to the water. What else do you need it for?”

   “Mrs Grimshaw wants the wash basin filled.  That will take a few trips, though.”

   “I’ll just grab it.”

   You turned to Arthur, concern on your face.  “It will be awfully heavy to lift, Arthur, especially when it’s full of water.”

   “Don’t worry, (y/n), I’ve got it,” Arthur said with a smirk.

   You both walked over to the wash basin, Arthur effortlessly lifting it up and dumping the excess dirty water into the nearby grass as you put down the two buckets you no longer needed.

   “I think Mrs Grimshaw also wants the water barrel filled,” you said to Arthur as you both started for the water again.

   “I think it’s going to rain this evening,” Arthur said with a smile.  “I wouldn’t worry about that for now.”

   Arthur’s kind smiled warmed your heart.  He was always looking out for you, and not having to fill the water barrel meant you might get some more downtime.  Maybe you could spend some time chatting with Arthur. He was just too sweet.

   “Bucket, please.”  Arthur reached out his hand as he waded into the water.  You leaned forwards and handed him your bucket, retrieving it a moment later after Arthur had filled it up (but not so much that you couldn’t lift it easily.)

   “Basin.”

   You handed Arthur the basin, watching as he submerged it, then heaved it above the water again.  With a grunt, he poured some of the water out and turned around towards the shore.

   “Are you sure you’ve got that?”  you asked as he began to wade through the water again, obviously working very hard to keep the basin lifted.

   “Y-yeah,” Arthur grunted when he reached the shore.

   “Do you want to put your boots on?”

   “Nobutwouldyoujustgrabthemforme?”  Arthur huffed.

   You nodded, picking up his boots in one hand and keeping your water held in the other.  “We’ll need to go behind Pearson’s wagon.”

   Arthur nodded and you both began walking through the campsite.  Everyone was bustling around, keeping their heads down, doing odd jobs to keep Mrs Grimshaw happy.  You looked up at Arthur again, his face red and cheeks puffed out as he tried to keep his balance and his suave composure.

   “I guess this could have filled up with water, too,” you added as you were just a few feet away from the washing station.

   “Yeah.”  Arthur heaved the basin up onto the crate with a thud, water splashing onto the ground and himself.  “Shit…”

   “Oh dear, Arthur…”  You couldn’t help but chuckle as Arthur held his arms out and shook them slightly, looking down at the wet mess he had made of himself, his black shirt now clinging tight to his chest.  “Maybe you should change your clothes…”

   “Really?”  Arthur looked at you with a sly grin.  “A little water never hurt anyone.”

   Arthur reached into the basin and pushed a wave of water at you.  You yelled and tried to step away from Arthur’s attack, only letting some water get on your skirt.

   “You little-”  Arthur’s laughs only increased your shocked anger, but who could stay angry at a smile like that?  You threw down Arthur’s boots and held your bucket of water in both hands. “You really want to play?”

   Arthur took a step backward.  “You wouldn’t dare!”

   “Try me.”

   As Arthur saw you raise the bucket, he turned to run, but you were faster.  You launched the water at him, the tidal wave landing square on his back. He froze, turning back you look with that same grin, this time paired with a shaking of his head.  “Oh, you’re going to regret that, little Missy.”

   Arthur charged, and you threw down the bucket and yelled, turning the other way to escape.  You may have been a fast runner, but Arthur was faster, especially when he was only spanning a short distance.  After only a second, you felt arms wrap around your waist and your feet leave the ground.

   “Arthur!  Arthur! Put me down!”  You laughed and kicked your legs.  “Arthur!”

   “You think you’re going to get off that easy?”  Arthur teased. “There’s no way only one of us endin’ up dry.”

   The direction Arthur was heading gave away his plan: straight for the filled water basin.

   “Arthur!” you yelled.  “No! Arthur! No! No!”

   “Oh yes.  Let’s see how you like gettin’ your hair wet.”

   “Mr Morgan!?”

   Arthur stopped in his tracks and you stopped thrashing when a devilish voice came from behind.  You both turned around, Arthur still frozen holding you in the air.

   “M-Mrs Gr-Grimshaw…”  Arthur stuttered.

   “And Miss (your last name)!  What on Earth are you doing!?”

   “I was just- just getting the-”

   “Getting what?  Getting out of chores to mess around with Mr Morgan!”  Mrs Grimshaw planted her fists on her hips and tapped her foot more rapidly.

   “No, ma’am, he was just helping me finish up getting the water.”

   “Well, this certainly doesn’t look like anything to do with getting the water!”  Mrs Grimshaw spat. “There is work to do around camp and all you do is mess around!  I’m pulling more than my weight, and you’re barely even pulling! Nothing will get done around here if no one does anything!  I can’t believe-”

   “Susan!  Susan…” Pearson appeared from the other side of his wagon, immediately going to Mrs Grimshaw’s side.  “I think that (y/n) gets the message. Now, it’s about time we get ready for lunch. You said you had some ideas to improve my stew, right?”

   Pearson lead away a still grumbling Mrs Grimshaw, you giving him a thankful smile.

   “Arthur,” you whispered after Pearson and Mrs Grimshaw had disappeared.  “You can put me down now.”

   “Oh!  Yes!” Arthur placed you back down on the ground.  “Sorry…”

   “It’s not a problem.”  You turned your face down to hide your blush.  “Guess Grimshaw is pretty serious about her camp work, huh?”

   Arthur chuckled, not looking you right in the eye.  “Yeah.”

   “Yeah…”  You drove your toe into the now soft ground, desperately trying to forget about how tight Arthur’s wet shirt was on him, and how lovely his touch was.  “Oh! Your boots!”

   “Oh!”  Arthur graciously reached out for his pair of boots as you handed them to him.  “Guess I’ll need those, huh?”

   “Yeah.”

   Arthur knocked some of the dirt from his feet and began to pull his boots back on.

   “Morgan!  What the hell are you doing?”

   Dutch stood not ten feet away from where you two were standing.

   “Dutch!  I was-”

   “I thought I told you to get your stuff gathered up so us and the other boys could go do a little digging, but instead you’re over here acting like a damn fool with Miss (your last name).”

   “I know, but- ”

   “I don’t care, Arthur.  Just get ready to go. And why are you all wet!”  Dutch closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. “Just- just- just change your shirt, get on your horse, and let’s move.”

   Arthur nodded to Dutch as he left.

   “I should be going,” Arthur said, adjusting his boots one last time.

   “I should probably make myself useful, too,” you added.  “Thanks again for helping me with the water.”

   “Not a problem!  If you ever need some more help around camp again, just let me know, alright?”

   “Will do.”

   “I gotta go before Dutch skins me alive.”

   “Alright, see you, Arthur.”

   You waved to Arthur as he rushed away, grabbing his jacket from a nearby table.

   “Oh, Arthur!” you called to him.  “Your gloves!”

   “Keep ‘em!” he yelled back.  “Have Strauss look at your hand!”

   You smiled to yourself, looking down to his worn gloves that still covered your hands.  He was so sweet and caring.

   “Looks like you’ve got yourself a sweetheart.”

   You turned to see Karen approaching you, Tilly and Mary Beth not far behind.

   “Who?  Arthur?”  You shook your head.  “Oh, no, he was just being nice.  The water buckets are heavy and-”

   “We are talking about the same Arthur Morgan, right?”  Karen continued. “About six feet tall, straggly hair, always dirty, not a nice bone in his body?”

   The girls laughed.

   “Oh, come on.  He’s not that bad.”

   “He’s ‘not that bad’ to you!  If one us asked for his help, he’d either tell us to start gaining muscle or to ask someone else!  I’m telling you, he’s real sweet on you.” Karen lowered her voice. “And I’m starting to think you’re gettin’ sweet in him.”

   Your face turned bright, hot red.  “I am not! I just think he’s a little bit nicer than the rest of the men here!  More helpful!”

   “If you say so.”  Karen began to walk past you.  “And don’t forget about that hand.  Wouldn’t want Arthur worryin’ too much.”

   You watched the girls walk away.  What Karen was saying couldn’t be true; Arthur was just being polite - he didn’t have feelings for you.  You began to walk toward Strauss's wagon, telling yourself you didn’t have feelings for him either. Or maybe you did.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeehaw.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed this fic! Don’t forget to check out my [other works](https://archiveofourown.com/users/okay_klepto) as well. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated, and please consider making a small [Ko-fi donation](https://ko-fi.com/okayklepto) if you enjoy my writing!


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